


moons, stars, suns and flowers

by idkimtired



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, after the trilogy takes place, everythings the same just... soulmates, idk - Freeform, im sorry, it was really late at night ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24755836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkimtired/pseuds/idkimtired
Summary: Riko had not liked Jean having a soulmate. Had not liked the idea of Jean believing he could belong to anyone else… or maybe he had just liked targeting what should have been Jean’s last hold on the outside world, on himself, had like targeting what should have been a symbol of belonging and home, liked destroying it.Jean has decided that his soulmate shouldn't have to put up with him. end of.wont lie its a bit random and all over the place and all written very late at night with little to no editing done but it is finished mostly so it'll all be up soon.
Relationships: Jeremy Knox & Jean Moreau, Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, jerejean - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	1. jean

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter and the next are basically just an intro if that makes sense? nothing about the storyline of the books is changed but im sorry if theres any inaccuracies.  
> this chapter talks about some pretty bad ...abuse? i guess? - hurt being inflicted on someone, (not in much detail but ... yeah its mentioned) so please dont read if thats a problem :/

Riko had not liked Jean having a soulmate. Had not liked the idea of Jean believing he could belong to anyone else… or maybe he had just liked targeting what should have been Jean’s last hold on the outside world, on himself, had like targeting what should have been a symbol of belonging and home, liked destroying it. Either way, Jean can still remember the first time Riko had tried to burn it off. Pain, the smell of burning flesh, passing out. He can remember screaming until his throat caved and no sound could escape, pleading in French and the little broken English he had. He can remember the aftermath, Kevin holding him up as he threw up, shaking violently, into the toilet and tried so hard not to cry. At first he had thought Riko had succeeded, that the mark was gone and with it the person it linked him to. They both had. Even Kevin trying to clean up the charred remains of Jean’s ruined skin had thought so. But it turns out that soul tattoos are stronger than that. Or maybe it was just that his soulmate was. It didn't matter. What mattered was that what was a simple moon, just below his neck, small enough, had grown. Not only had the old tattoo reappeared, fresh ink written over fresh scars, but it had grown. Just some stars, tiny, falling in a line down his spine.  
So Riko had kept targeting his back. And the mark kept growing.  
At first Jean had gotten a savage delight out of this act of defiance by his own body, had taken comfort in knowing that even unknowingly his soulmate wasn't giving up on him. It had felt like a promise that he wasn't completely ruined, that he was still good enough even just for one person. It had felt like bravery when he didn't have any left. But then, when Riko didn't stop, it turned to hatred. For the unknown soulmate, for the tattoo itself now covering almost his entire back with lines and writing and constellations and moons, for the pain it brought him as Riko’s anger grew with it. He found himself wishing it would give up and go away, that it would break as easily as he was breaking if only for some relief from Riko’s fury, but it didn't. Eventually, he felt nothing. Nothing but complete indifference towards it. A numbness that filled him up and left him hollow.  
Then Riko died. Gone, dead, gone, dead, gone.  
And he was safe. Everyone kept telling him that. Riko was dead and he was safe. Renee said it with a sad smile when he flinched away from her. Abby said it when she found him chanting a list of French adverbs in the kitchen at 3am instead of sleeping. Even Kevin said it when Jean threw up at the sight of an exy racket. Safe. Safe, safe, safe, safe, safe. If he chanted it enough maybe he could believe it. Riko was dead. And he was safe.  
And his mark stopped growing. He dared look at it for the first time in years, twisting in front of Abby’s bathroom mirror. It stretched from the bottom of his neck all the way to his waist, across his shoulders and curling loosely around his hip. It could be beautiful, really beautiful, all in black ink, mapping the phases of the moon down his back and constellations over his skin, tiny stars and elegant writing dancing around each other, pretty swirls and lines lovingly tracing his muscles. But. But the skin underneath was anything but beautiful. A warpath of scars from burns and knives and whatever else Riko could get his hands on. A haunting reminder of agonies he could never forget.  
His soulmate doesn't deserve this. The broken mess he has become, is. Doesn't deserve to have to deal with the scars, doesn't deserve his past or his present and they definitely don't deserve to be stuck with Jean for the rest of their lives. Not when even he isn't convinced his life is worth having to live with himself. Riko might be dead but he can't be ignored, not with Jean’s back looking like that and his mind in barely held together tatters.  
He doesn't look at his back again.


	2. jeremy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title kinda says it all  
> mention of (very light + brief) internal homophobia

Jeremy can remember what his tattoo used to be, for the first 16 years of his life. A small sun at the bottom of his neck. Can remember the awe and excitement of it growing… and the anxiousness too. Remembers clearly the day he first realised it had grown. He had felt strange all day, jumpy and restless, had felt like what he felt like when he was on the phone and his brain was trying to find the person he was talking to, like he was looking for someone without knowing why, walking into rooms and looking around without knowing what he was looking for. The creeping sense of urgency, a sickness in his stomach, hadn't helped. He’d gone out with some friends to try clear his mind and they’d started messing around at the beach, playing a make-up game of sort-of exy in suimshorts under the baking heat. One of his friends had noticed and told him to stop moving. The rest had crowded around to see before an uncertain clamour of agreement had followed.

“Those flowers are new, aren't they? Did you always have flowers man?”

He did not always have flowers. But they were 16 year old boys so he assumed it was a joke until they dragged him back to his house and made him check in the mirror. Proof had stared back at him. It had grown. A flower raining small petals down his spine.

Anxious google searches had helped not at all. His mother had even dragged him to the priest and then the doctors after one of his more tense aunts started ranting about the devil, but no one knew. It wasn't unheard of, just extremely rare. No, they did not know what caused it. No, he shouldn't be worried. He was fine. His soulmate? They couldn't know, he would have to wait to meet them. 

And Jeremy couldn't wait to meet them- really. Whoever’s soul matched his in such a way that made his back so pretty- the repeated sun pattern and flowers swirling across tanned skin, swirls, lines and elegant writing unrolling across his back as it grew with him- must be truly amazing. There was something beautiful in every line. 

And yet. And yet there was a problem. Two even. The first was that… well it was a feeling. A feeling that had him waking up gasping in the middle of the night, a nightmare hovering at the back of his mind, like a forgotten pain his body was trying to remember or the fear of something specific and looming but hidden from him. Something felt off about his tattoo growing, the same feeling from the first day that had never gone away but had instead gotten worse. Not the tattoo itself- it was too beautiful, too full of hope and stubbornness for that, but his soulmate. Something felt wrong. A fear of danger he could never shake that pooled in his stomach in the form of dread. 

The second problem… the second problem had to do with him. And boys. Girls were pretty. He liked girls. He kissed girls, he dated girls, he… he liked girls. But, boys were pretty too. He blushed when the new boy accidentally brushed his hand, he caught himself staring at the older boys during lunch at school, he… he didn't really want to like boys. So he ignored it, shoved it away, deep down, but as the tattoo on his back grew it became harder. What if-? What ifs plagued him, a one-in-two chance, the roll of a dice. He avoided his mom's eyes when she teased him about the lucky girl, poking his back gently, and tried not to feel too trapped when they went to mass every week and the priest warned them all about the easiness of giving in to sin. 

Then Jeremy went to college. USC. A scholarship. Exy, exy, exy. And he made new friends. Including two girls who kissed each other in your face without apologising. Because it was ok. It was ok. So he kissed girls and he kissed boys. He became captain. He smiled. He didn't apologise. Not even when he told his mother. He tried to ignore his first problem for now. 

He really couldn't wait to meet them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something actually happens in the next chapter i promise :)


	3. proof the universe is mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um... a certain french drama queen panics a bit  
> set two days after Jean arrives at USC (classes and practise havent started yet but its the end of summer)

It takes Jean two days to realise.

And then he sits on the floor and buries his head in his arms, feet tucked in closed.

Jeremy Knox. Jeremy fucking Knox. A joke. The universe was playing a joke on him. And it was not funny. Of all the people… Knox practically radiated, he liked people, he liked life, he was happy, he… he was alive, worse, he was kind. Of all the people Jean knew Jeremy deserved this maybe the least. You’re wrong, he told the universe. You just cannot be correct. If anyone needed more proof the universe was mad. Him and Knox. He only realises he snorted out loud when he hears Knox, the man himself, come over, bare feet soft on the floor.

“Jean?”

He would reply if he could. He really would. But his brain is stuck on a loop of no. Not him. He might be panicking. Just a little.

“Jean?” He sounds worried. How long has it been?

“Fuck off.” He practically runs out. An easy, simple example of how very wrong the universe is. 

They share a dorm room, or sort-of - there’s half a wall between the two sections of the room they share. Jean sort-of hates that he's so very glad to be able to hear someone else asleep when he’s trying to sleep himself, so glad of another human presence. Abby’s had helped with the separation problem but not enough- he can now be in a room alone if he knows someone is close by without panicking… on a good day. Bad days… on bad days Jean doesn't know if he hates Riko or himself more.

So. It's definitely a good thing that he’s sharing a dorm, even if it's with Knox. And the half-wall allows them both privacy. So that's good. The only reason he’d seen Knox’s back was because he’d been in their shared miniscule kitchen/sitting room, had gotten bored of the program he was watching and had gone to fetch a book. Knox had been looking for his t-shirt, back turned to Jean. For once Jean was glad of the practise he had at keeping all emotions off his face. He’d gotten his book before going back to the kitchen to have his breakdown.

Now he runs. Away. Away, away, away from Knox and his tattoo and the universe and, maybe if he runs fast enough, the entire world. Maybe he can outrun everything and just leave it all behind. 

Naturally, he gets lost. And now he doesn't know what panic is the worst - he doesn't know where he is (he doesn't - he can't - god he doesn't know where he is, doesn't know where he is, doesn't know the street or or - he’s never been here before - the last time he didn't know exactly where he was he was 16 years old, first time in America, first time in the Nest), there’s nobody with him that he knows (he’s pretty sure he’s trembling, fists clenched, glad he hasn't eaten anything - when was the last time he was truly alone? By himself? 6? 7 years ago? He gasps for breath. You have to have a partner, you have to, you have to, you have to), Jeremy Know is his soulmate. How is he supposed to deal with that? How is that fair after everything? Shouldn't the universe owe him? What will he do when training starts and they’re in the same changing room? Will he really have to spend the entire year hiding?

He closes his eyes and sees the tattoo. They're actually quite different - fitting considering how different he and Knox are - where Jean has stars and the moon, Knox has the sun and flowers and clouds. Even in their tattoos he's the sun while Jean remains in the night - an easy reminder to Jean that this was a mistake, that Knox will be so much better off without him. But the writing and swirls and lines and even the positions of the drawings, that's the same, as is the ink-like black. There’s no way to pretend they don't match. 

He realises he's calling Renee and wonders when that became instinct.


	4. normal human beings interacting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeans first and second training sessions at USC - i like to think he hates interactions at least as much as i do  
> jeremy's pretty confused  
> day after the last chapter

Jean avoids looking anyone in the eye, instead choosing to stare at the court floor, at his hands, clutching his racket so tightly his knuckles are going white. Even though he can feel the stares of the entire team on him, ranging from awe on the new players to wariness on the older ones. Most of them are looking straight past him to the tattoo still on his face, a three marked clear as day against pale skin. He tries not to think about it too much. He tries to listen past the breathing echoing in his ears to what Knox is saying, something about how because this is their first training session it will just be an introduction with some drills but mostly name games and that sort of thing. Jean doesn't know what name games are or what ‘that sort of thing’ could imply or how on earth it could matter enough to take up time they should be spending training and is momentarily glad that feeling out of his depth is nothing new. He's been drowning for years now. 

Name games and ‘that sort of thing’ turn out to be a very specific kind of torture. Jean watches it unroll with a familiar detachment as if standing behind the glass walls instead of within the court, a tried and tested coping mechanism for any kind of social situation. He speaks as little as possible, allowing himself some relief when he isn't pushed to do so, instead hanging back and trying to figure out how normal human beings interact with each other. His experience so far is limited to the Ravens, the Foxes and France, none of which are good examples. France is long ago enough to feel like a dream and his interactions there almost all happened with people within his father’s circles, ie criminals and their children, the Ravens apart from Kevin and Riko and his partner - who was under strict instructions on how to act with him - were mostly forbidden from speaking to him and none of the Foxes are half-way sane. To say that the players at USC are different is more than just an understatement. He feels like he’s been thrown into a different species. 

They smile and laugh for no reason, they touch each other all the time, a jostled shoulder, a high five, a hug, they are loud and eager, they talk and shout out of turn, giving up their life stories at one question. He knows, in a detached sort of way, that normal people give importance to who they are as an individual, that names matter and being friends with people matters. But this seems ridiculous. They're an exy team, why should he know anything more than their number and playing position if he doesn't care and doesn't want to be friends with any of them? He knows better than to voice this allowed, instead half-heartedly going along with their games, participating mostly when exy is involved.

He does his best to avoid Knox as he’s been doing all day, since he came back to the apartment very late last night to a slightly panicked captain and refused to say a word, but allows a fellow backliner to be presented to him. Even he understands the importance of knowing who you’re working with, even if he would rather getting to know the other boy by practising exy until they understood how the other played without meaningless chit chat beforehand as he had always done. But USC is different, he understands that, understands that to play well with them he has to play their way. And that, unfortunately, means talking.

The other boy, dark skinned and lanky, introduces himself as Theo with a lopsided grin. Jean introduces himself to somewhere beside Theo’s ear, biting his tongue to stop the ‘number 3’ from coming out, wondering if most people feel so odd using their names and doubting it. Theo sticks by him for most of the session, chattering away without taking mind at Jean’s silence. It only takes one glance at Knox, looking over at the two of them, to know who set him up to it. Jean doesn't mind, it makes it seem like he's joining in far more than he is. 

He’s still sore from his lingering injuries but playing on through pain is something he’s used to, almost a comfort in the newness of everything else, and he holds himself back for now, watching how they play and reminding himself to adapt his style to their no-fouls policy. This means tampering it down quite a bit, removing some of the brutality from his checks and viciousness from his play. So for now, until he can find a way to play clean without thinking too much while still playing well, he’s going to have to hold back. Knox notices, Jean can tell from the narrowing of his eyes as he watches Jean play, and he's not the only one. But no one says anything and as soon as it's over Jean bolts for it, avoiding a team dinner though sheer willpower of pretending he doesn't hear or understand. 

***************************************************************************************************************************

Jeremy doesn't really know what to do about Jean Moreau. Jean who hasn't looked Jeremy in the eye once in the three days he's been at USC. Jean who calls him ‘Knox’ or ‘captain’ but mostly says nothing unless it can't be avoided. Who arrived with more bruises than he should still have after such a long recovery time, more than he should have gotten in an ‘accident’. Who flinches whenever anyone makes a sudden move or raises their voice. Jean who is cold and distant except for when he looks confused by little normal things like being offered coffee or when he has a breakdown and disappears for hours. Jean Moreau, the best backliner of college exy anywhere, who was holding himself back all throughout practise. 

Who isn't holding himself back now, flinging balls against the court walls with shocking accuracy in some sort of complicated drill in the middle of the night. Jeremy rests his head against the door of the court, enraptured by the easy movement, deadly and precise, of the other boy and unwilling to startle him in the middle of his drill. He enters when Jean finishes and starts to set a new one, wincing at the fear that flashes across his face before his usual blank mask falls back on. He stops what he’s doing and stands at what Jeremy can only assume is attention, back straight and feet planted carefully, hands behind his back. At loss Jeremy offers him a smile and gets a blank look in return.

“Hey,” Jeremy looks around at the balls at Jeans feet and cones carefully placed, “Um, sorry i was just checking in on you cause you left without saying where and… well yeah. Um what are you doing?”

“Training. Raven drills.” Jean waves his racket but gives nothing else.

“Right,” Jeremy flounders, wondering what he should do. Tell him to get some sleep? He looks back at the half set up drill and thinks back to Jean’s precise movements. He's already here… “Do you mind teaching me? It's fine if no, of course,” he adds hurriedly, “I just thought… you're really good.” He blushes and rubs the back of his head. Jean hesitates, tilting his head to the side before nodding.

“Ok.”

“Really? Ok!” Jeremy races eagerly to get his racket, surprised at his own excitement, figuring he should hurry before Jean changes his mind. 

Training one-on-one with Jean turns out to be even more intense than expected. He doesn't speak except when necessary to explain something or as a correction and he’s no longer holding back. Ten minutes in and Jeremy is exhausted. But he's loving it, the pounding of his heart, the harshness of his breath, the adrenaline he can feel pumping through his veins. His grin is wild and he’s doing everything he can to try get past Jean. He's failing but god is it fun. Jean looks mystified by his enthusiasm but at some point he grins, more of a show of teeth than anything else, and Jeremy realises he’s enjoying himself too despite his harsh critique of every move Jeremy makes. By the time they stop Jeremy’s legs tremble from keeping him standing and his cheeks ache from grinning. 

“That was brilliant,” he says chugging water with the same fever as after a match. Jean nods more reserved but drinking as eagerly as Jeremy even though he does a better job hiding it. “Can we do it again?” 

“If you want to.” 

Jeremy hums in too good a mood to consider going to bed.

“Hey, wanna grab something to eat on the way back?” Jean bites his lip, frowning, before nodding.

“You're going to die early because of the crap you eat, Knox,” he says, an eyebrow raised elegantly, his voice cutting but amused. Jeremy fakes an offended gasp.

“Whatever Moreau, what do you want as a midnight feast then if not crap?”

“2am actually.”

“Shit.”

“Hmm.”

“... so? 2 am feast…?”

“...” Jean stares at his feat “Well I haven't had a croissant in a long time.” His voice is soft and hesitant and he says croissant in French which sounds so much better and if he says it like that Jeremy will go to France to get him croissants if he has to.

“To the bakery it is!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really really cannot put into words my hatred for name games  
> wont lie this wasnt in the first draft but i needed a chapter in between the last and next one so...


	5. first names and smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time jump!  
> nothing much has happened since the last chapter but Jean has settled in a lot :)  
> jeremy's pov (mostly)

Jeremy still hasn't realised by Christmas, a small miracle. The team assumed Jean doesn't want them seeing his scars when he changes in a bathroom stall instead of the changing room and don't push it. Jean can't really say he cares. But… no. No buts.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

“Hey Jean?”

“Knox.” Jeremy groans internally, wishing it doesn't feel quite so much like a punch in the gut when Jean uses his second name, like he’s failed in gaining his trust or messed up somehow without knowing - he does it every time after all, Jeremy should be used to it. Even if Jean now mostly uses first names for the rest of the team off court, even though he doesn't share a room with them. 

“How about for Christmas you call me Jeremy?” he says without thinking. Jean looks up from his desk, blinking at Jeremy in surprise. The thing is, Jeremy’s pretty sure Jean doesn't hate him, no, he is sure, he’s pretty sure Jean likes him even, that they're friends, but sometimes… sometimes he gives him this look and Jeremy’s not so sure any more. It's dark and hiding something and he looks like he might hate Jeremy a little. But then Jean shrugs and the moment’s over.

“Okay,” his smile is a little dark and still doesn't reach his eyes but Jeremy counts it as a win anyway, “Jeremy.” Jeremy decides then and there he much prefers his name in a French accent. Forgets why he’s here. Jean goes back to his work, dark hair falling in front of his eyes as he frowns. 

“Ok, so, speaking of Christmas,” says Jeremy, remembering, and Jean nods, “Do you have anywhere to go? Because some of us always rent someplace along the coast and i- we were wondering if you wanted to come?” A pause. Jeremy waits as Jean chews on his lip, running an absentminded hand through his hair. He likes giving Jean choices - come or don't, cereal or toast etc- but knows by now to let Jean take his time in making them. 

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Yes! Perfect.” Jeremy settles on a delighted grin as he walzes off to get himself some tea, feeling Jeans bewildered gaze following him out of the room. 

*********************************************************************************************************

Jeremy’s girlfriend dumps him a week before classes end and he lies on the couch morning it for an hour before Jean, clearly sick of him, says Good. Seven pairs of incredulous eyes, including Jeremy’s, turn to the french boy, who ignores them all from his position on their armchair. He looks like an insolent prince, draped on a throne, sitting as he is with his chin propped up by his hand. It took forever to convince Jean he could sit how he wanted and not in a perfectly straight upright position, he must be having a good day to be sitting so dramatically sprawled out like that. 

“Good?” demands Alvarez indignantly, both a lover of fights and a fierce defender, and Jean’s eyes turn calmly to her.

“Yes, good. I didn't like…” he waves a lazy hand, “Whatever her name was.” Jeremy doesn think Jean knows the names of anyone who doesn't play exy but still.

“Jean, you live with me! We’re friends, what-”

“She didn't even come to your matches Jeremy.”

Jean watches them all, looking bored, as they consider his point. The problem was, he was right, which wasn't fair, and Jeremy’s name sounded ridiculously good when he said it, which he had, which also wasn't fair. Jeremy isn't sure which point to fixate on. 

“Ok,” says Alvarez, “Ok, but you didn't need to say that now,” -she waves a hand at Jeremy- “we’ve gotten rid of her anyway.” Jeremy splutters while Jean looks first at her, then at Jeremy, at her again, then back to Jeremy. He's wearing a small frown.

“Ok,” he says slowly turning the word over, “Fine. Jeremy, she was the true love of your life, better than your soulmate and the best you were ever going to get. We all loved her and she had no flaws. Was that better?” 

Lalia throws a pillow at him and gets a scowl when he catches it easily but both she and Jeremy are laughing, even Alvarez, looking stunned at first has started laughing. It feels good, something loosening in Jeremy.

“That was so much worse,” he tells Jean between laughter and gets a smile in response.

Oh.

That can't be the first time he’s seen Jean smile can it? No but this… it's softer, happier… real. It might be the first time he’s seen Jean smile for real. He looks younger, less hurt, less angry at the world, more… himself.

Oh.

Jeremy’s forgotten how to breathe.


	6. honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poor trojans think that surely soulmates is a safe topic apparently

They're talking about soulmates. It's dark outside, and cold. But Jean’s inside, sipping at his first hot chocolate since France, bundled into what Jeremy insists is an obligatory, ugly Christmas jumper. So it doesn't really matter what's outside. They're all in the sitting room of their rented Christmas house and he’s sitting, back to the wall, on a mound of pillows, beside Jeremy who looks close to falling asleep. Warm, comfortable, easy.

And they're talking about soulmates.

Alvarez and Lalia are soulmates, matching thorns and roses circling their wrists in shades of the sunrise, pink, cream and yellow, but they're the only ones in the small group of seven who have found their soulmate. Unless you count Jean… and Jeremy. He wishes this conversation didn't make him so uncomfortable, squirming deeper into the pillows as if he can hide from the topic at hand and trying not to look at Jeremy. He glances at him anyway, golden hair set ablaze into a warm halo by the firelight and tries to ignore the image of their matching backs burning into his mind. Maybe… no. No maybes. He's doing better but… but, but, but - but Jeremy deserves better than his better, deserves more than he can give, because even if he’s doing better that doesn't always mean even halfway good. 

Theo sighs as he traces the golden brown tree he’s showing them on his leg, sighs about how long it's taking - i don't want to meet them when i'm already old and we barely have any time, you know?

“What about you?” he asks Jean with a yawn, “Thoughts?” Thrown, Jean can feel himself tensing and his knuckles go white around his mug. He just shakes his head. 

“Riko burnt it off,” he tries to explain, tired and far more honest than he usually is, and beside him Jeremy straightens looking wide awake while Lalia chokes on her hot chocolate.

“What?!” He meets her panicked gaze and smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way.

“Don't worry, it came back but…” he shrugs “I guess it makes the idea of a soulmate harder?” So much harder when he's sitting right there beside him. Their faces are all frozen in various stages of shock and he feels himself shrinking back. “Sorry,” a quickly mumbled apology as he tries to think of how to fix what he's just admitted.

“No,” Jean feels Jeremy nudge him and turns to see his face - is he going to cry? “You have nothing to be sorry for. We’re sorry.” Jeremy’s finger is a barely there touch of support on his arm. A general murmur of sad-sounding agreement filters into his heart before a change of topic brings them back to lighter conversation.

Later, much later, Jeremy falls asleep on Jean’s shoulder.

It means nothing.

Really. 

**************************************************************************************************************************

He doesn't hear anything else about it until the day after Christmas, three days later. It's afternoon but since they all just woke up, they're treating it like morning. It's just him and Jeremy in the kitchen, Jean making pancakes the way he remembers from France and putting them in the oven so that they can all eat them together later, Jeremy hanging off the counter, clearly very hungover and trying to talk anyway. It was the first time Jean had seen him drink and he notes with amusement that he’s a lightweight.

“Hey, your um soulmate… do you want to talk about it?” Jean freezes, hand on the pan handle. “You don't have to, obviously, but i just thought… maybe you wanted to?” Jean turns around to face him and watches him swallow. He’s aware that his face is too blank to be calm but what else can he do? This is the last conversation he wants, ever. He shakes his head.

“Ok.” Jeremy turns to leave, maybe misreading the expression on Jean’s face, remembers something and turns back around, blushing, unable to meet Jean’s eyes. 

“And Jean? Anyone would be lucky to be your soulmate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i should say everyone has a mostly good christmas apart from that


	7. two minds going in loops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh these idiots

Jean’s been agonising over it. Lucky. Anyone would be lucky. 

They're friends now. Him and Jeremy. Good friends, better than any Jean’s ever had anyway. Which almost makes things worse. The one time they spoke about Jeremy’s soulmate (but not about Jean’s, never about Jean’s) Jean had almost told him right there and then. Even if it was a disappointment. Jeremy just seemed so eager, so hopeful, so sure they would be perfect. Maybe it would be better to break it to him that no, that he would never find his soulmate, not really, so he could get on with his life.

It would be a disappointment. 

He can't. He can't disappoint Jeremy, doesn't think he’d be able to pull himself back together afterwards. No. He can't. 

Even if Jeremy… Jeremy said anyone would be lucky… 

His mind works in loops these days.

… does Jeremy even like boys?

**************************************************************************************************************************************

Jeremy cannot BELIEVE he said that. TO JEAN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the jeremy in my head makes me laugh  
> there will *gasp* be actual exy played in the next chapter


	8. Chapter 8

They're winning. Not exactly unusual but this is the Ravens. The one team Jeremy really isn't used to winning against. His lungs ache, his legs hurt and he’s aware that his smile is maniac-like behind his helmet. The Ravens don't play fair and they've been angrier than usual all season, fouling recklessly and brutaly. He’s going to have some pretty colourful bruises but he's, they all have, been practising, preparing for this all season. Full matches. They aren't all there yet but he is, even if he feels like collapsing afterwards. This match is particularly grueling not just because of the Raven’s play but also how often they switch off. It feels like every player he meets is new and full of energy. 

But this is the one match he refuses to lose. The most important one. And they're going to win. He can feel it. and he's going to be on court for every second of it.

He turns to look at Jean in defense, meeting the other boys focused and serious gaze with a wild grin. He gets a flash of a savage smile for a second in response. Jean can go full games too now, was the first to be able to do so (of course), and has also been on court since the beginning of the game, a reassuring presence, even if it's made of pure stubbornness and rage, behind Jeremy at all times. Jeremy won't lie, he was worried before the game, about Jean playing the Ravens. He had gotten an eyeroll in response to his concern, followed by a haughty ‘we’re going to win’. And they are. Jeremy has to tamper down his giddiness, put that energy to use somewhere more helpful, but it bubbles just behind his throat. They're going to win. Not that his worries are completely dismissable. The Ravens are attacking Jean with a viciousness new even for them and Jeremy's still planning on getting them out of this place as fast as possible after the game’s end. 

For now - exy.

He intercepts a pass from Theo. Makes it two feet before he’s being barreled into by a Raven defender. They both slam into the ground and he has to blink back stars. He gets up first and offers a hand to help his opponent up. Shrugs when they refuse it. Accepts his free from the ref with a cheery grin. 

Again.

Again.

Again.

Two minutes left. The score is 4:3, to them but the gap should be wider. He's sick of being fouled. Sick of his team being fouled. Sick of Jean being fouled especially badly. His legs burn, his lungs are frantically trying their best to remember how to breath and his arms scream at him to put his racket down. Two minutes left. Less now.

At the other end of the court, Jean gets the ball. They meet eyes. Jean’s eyes barely flicker to the scoreboard before he begins to run and Jeremy feels his own feet begin to move before he’s aware he made the decision. Jean is running, using up all his steps to ge as far up the court as he can. Jeremy is racing, getting as close to the goal as possible. They've only ever done this in practise. Adrenaline lends his tired limbs a frantic energy. He has to stretch to reach Jean’s pass, beautiful though it is, and swings his entire body into flinging the ball directly at the goal. Tumbles over with the force of it. Looks up just in time to see the goal go red. To hear the buzzer go. The end. Match over.

He groans, grinning, and let's his head slump as his muscles give up. Until he’s being hauled up, practically picked up, and he turns to see Jean. Jean who’s laughing. Jean. Laughing.

A second later they're being crushed by the rest of the team but it stays, the feeling. It's bewitching. He was laughing. 

They won.


	9. probably can't outparty gangsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> directly after the match in the last chapter

“Are you okay for the party tonight?” asks Jeremy, plonking himself beside Jean’s bus seat without asking if anyone was there already. Jean turns away from the window, glad for the distraction from the court receding behind them and the anxious feeling in his stomach from being there. 

“We know you haven't been to one yet,” chimes in Alvarez, slung over the back of her seat to see him, “They can get pretty wild.”

Jean snorts before he can help himself.

“Your parties do not get wild.” Alvarez’s eyebrows rise and beside him Jeremy starts to laugh.

“You've never been!”

“None of you are even allowed to smoke, god-” he waves vaguely at the boy beside him “- Jeremy doesn't even drink.”

“He does at parties,” says Lalia, popping up beside her girlfriend, “Don't you want to see Jeremy drunk? It's hilarious, I promise. When have you been to any wild parties to make ours seem tame anyway? I doubt the Ravens-”

“Not the Ravens,” he agrees, “But I arrived in America at 16. We had parties in France.” Alvarez doesn't look impressed.

“Yeah, teenage highschool parties.” Jean rolls his eyes at her.

“My father’s parties and sometimes my older brother’s,” he corrects, “I doubt anyone here will be bringing a prostitute and a bag of…” he waves his hand “The white stuff? Cocaine is it called?” They all gape at him.

“You were allowed at these?” asks Alvarez at the same time as Jeremy says “You have an older brother?” Jean doesn't like where this conversation is going but, for once, it's his fault.

“My parents wouldn't give up their heir,” he tells Jeremy, “I was just a backup. So yes, an older brother. As for being allowed,” - he shrugs - “Of course. They were a cover up for business deals. I was brought along to get high and distract certain people.” Maybe, he thinks, if he acts like it's no big deal they can just move on. So he keeps his voice matter-of-fact as he speaks. The truth is Jean doesn't think of France that much. It's a distant, barely real memory he's moved past, keeping only the comfort he gets from his native language as a reminder of where he's from. He hasn't thought about these parties in years and isn't really sure why he's bringing them up now. As for his brother... he was as distant a figure to Jean as his parents.

“At 16?” Jean squirms at the horror in Lalia’s voice.

“From 12 actually.” A pause as they take this in.

“12-?” begins Jeremy softly but he’s interrupted by Theo coming over and bracing himself on the seat for balance. Thank god for Theo and his complete inability to read the room.

“Sup,” he says cheerfully, then, “...what?”

“Jean thinks we’re tame,” ALvarez recovers first, “Apparently his childhood was hardcore French parties.”

“We probably can't outparty gangsters,” admits Theo, causing Jean to roll his eyes, “But he’s welcome to try to outdrink our champion.”

**********************************************************************************************************************************

Every time Jeremy hears more about Jean’s past he gets a little more depressed and the need to give the other boy a hug and never let anyone near him again grows stronger. But the conversation moves on and he falls asleep on Jean’s shoulder before he can talk to him about it. 

Those who played in the match arrive at the party already wrecked but there's a buzz in the air and it's already been set up in a hotel suite by some of the cheerleaders so Jeremy doesn't mind. It's hard to ruin his good mood, the steady chant of we won, we won, we won, looping through his mind. He joins most of the team in crowding around Jean and Dylan’s drinking match and watches Jean carefully line up his shots. It had taken some convincing on Theo’s part for him to agree, along with a warning that he hasn't drank in years. He wins anyway, calmly throwing back shots with an elegant flick of his wrist and tilt of his neck. He manages to look collected, almost bored, the entire way through but by the end both he and Dylan are stumbling and slurring words. Dylan barely makes it to the bathroom while Jean sits down on the floor looking bewildered among the cheers of the team. A laughing Theo convinces Jeremy to go have fun while he takes care of Jean. 

He does. But he finds Jean alone outside much later anyway. He sits down heavily beside him.

“I haven't been this drunk depuis… ages,” mumbles Jean, waving a hand, his accent thick enough to be difficult to understand while he’s slurring his words. Jeremy giggles. 

“Me neither,” he admits and Jean turns to look at him, squinting as if he’s hard to see. Jean laughs and Jeremy finds himself joining in, both of them laughing uncontrollably at nothing. Jean’s drunk laugh is different from his other one this is still the second time he's heard Jean laugh in one evening. He tells him as much when they stop.

“You should laugh more.” Actually Jean should never stop laughing, Jeremy could live off the sound. Maybe he’s had more to drink than he thought. Jean blinks at him, long lashes tangling together. He nods, or drunkenly tries to anyway, looking like a small child copying an older sibling in something they aren't quite old enough for yet. They stare into the night in companionable silence until Jean turns to look at him. Jeremy glances over.

“Tu es très joli,” Jean tells him, sincerity weighing down his slurred words, earnest eyes on Jeremy’s face. Now it's Jeremy’s turn to blink, unable to understand, wishing he paid more attention during high school french class.

They are interrupted by the girls, laughter and light spilling into the night through the opening door. Jeremy allows himself to be dragged back inside. 

*********************************************************************************************************************************

Google Translate:  
Tu es très joli - you are very pretty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figure the only way Jean would ever say anything like that is when very intoxicated


	10. nothing he can do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty much just a very self-indulgent filler chapter

“Jeremy?”

“...yeah…”

“Jeremy?” 

Jeremy opens his eyes with a groan, his brain still half asleep, pushing himself up by his elbows and yawing into the dark.

“Jeremy?”

It was Jean. He feels immediately more awake. He's stumbling over to Jean’s bed, almost crashing into the wall that separates them, before he’s realised he's gotten up. 

“Jean.”

“Jeremy?” It was said in the almost childlike voice of innocent terror, a barely breathed out question, soft and high, only just a whisper. Jeremy is amazed he even woke up.

“I'm here. I'm… I'm here Jean. You're okay.” He knows better than to touch Jean without asking, instead choosing to kneel beside the bed. “You're okay Jean, you're at USC with… with me, just - just wake up, yeah? I'm going to turn on the light.” It takes some fumbling and Jean whimpers at the sound of his hand hitting the bedside table but he does. A warm glow illuminates the two of them and Jean’s eyes flicker uncertainly open, widening with panic when he sees Jeremy.

“It's okay. Jean, jean it's okay. You're awake now, you're okay.” He relaxes slowly, eyes darting around but repeatedly coming back to Jeremy and scanning him before going back to searching the room for threats. It's heartbreaking. Eventually he rolls onto his back with a groan. 

“I'm sorry for waking you.” A whisper that breaks the remaining rubble of Jeremy’s heart.

“It’s ok. Want some hot chocolate?” Jean’s eyes go to Jeremy in surprise but he nods hesitatingly.

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” says Jeremy as he makes the drink, not daring to look at Jean sitting on the kitchen counter, “But if you want to…” he risks a look. Jean nods, his feet swinging loosely in the air, hair ruffled and eyes still a little too haunted. He reaches out just short of touching Jeremy’s bare back where his tattoo is clearly visible, fingers hovering inches from skin.

“Riko was burning your back,” he says simply, dropping his hand.

“Oh.”

“It's usually me, you or Renee but sometimes others too.” Jeremy has nothing to say, nothing to do to make Jean’s eyes look less sad and tired, nothing he can do to make it better. All he can do is offer Jean a tall mug of hot chocolate with a sad smile.

They decide to watch a movie, on an unspoken agreement that neither of them will be sleeping anytime soon. Jeremy decides on Bolt because he needs a cartoon where everything works out and with cute animals and Jean’s never seen it and doesn't know any movies so has no suggestions. Something Jeremy needs to change. Jean curls up into the side of the couch with his mug, feet tucked under him and it's at this point, other distractions gone, that Jeremy really realises that he’s topless. It's too late to be self conscious so he pretends not to be blushing, even as he feels Jean watching his tattoo. 

Halfway through the movie Jean falls asleep, head dropping into Jeremy’s lap, and Jeremy loses the ability to concentrate on anything else. It's late and he's tired and no one else is there, so he doesn't bother pretend otherwise, turning the movie off and running his hands through Jean’s soft hair until he falls asleep too.


	11. talking about everything and nothing

Jean finds himself sitting on the kitchen floor, against the oven, beside Jeremy close enough to touch, on a Friday evening, wondering _again_ if he should say something. The rest of the team has just left them the clean up after a movie night of watching what they all insisted are ‘classics’ and they had started, really they had. Or Jean had, Jeremy had given up almost immediately and Jean wasn't bothered enough to do it alone. So, the floor. He props his feet up against the counter while Jeremy sits cross legged. They talk about everything and nothing - exy, classes, Jeremy’s little sister’s new cat. Maybe it would be boring if it wasn't Jeremy. Jean could sit here talking about nothing with Jeremy until dawn, maybe forever. He might be a little bit utterly screwed. It's fine. 

Jeremy leans his head back against the oven, golden curls tumbling back so his face is clearly visible, golden tan and warm freckles, a smile on his face even as he talks to the ceiling. Jean knows by now that Jeremy has different smiles. This one is his most real one, content and happy. Jean refuses to ruin that. He says nothing. 

The conversation moves on until, somehow, they're talking about Jeremy’s exes. One of them’s a boy. Jean makes sure his face doesn't change. It's not a conversation he's enjoying. 

“What about you?” asks Jeremy eventually, “Did you um… have you dated anyone since your transfer? Or before? Is um is Renee…?” He breaks off, blushing and tapping his fingers, eyes avoiding Jean’s. 

“No.”

“No?” Jean nods, playing with a thread on his tracksuit, “No like not ever? To all of those?” 

Jean sighs. “I didn't want to. Don't. At… at the nest it wasn't really an option but, well i guess before then, in France i did. A bit, nothing serious.” He makes a face. “Now, here I - I’m enough of a mess as it is. It's not fair to - to impose that on anyone else i guess, besides there hasn't been anyone i'm interested in,” - he can't look at Jeremy, hating that that's a lie - “As for Renee -” he allows himself a smirk, amused despite himself, “- she’s not really my type. Not sure if I'm hers,” he adds under his breath. 

Jeremy is quiet for a minute. “You wouldn't be imposing on someone,” his voice is quiet but intense and Jean can't look at him, “It’s ok if you don't want to date of course, but Jean, fuck, you’re a person not - not an imposition. Everyone’s a mess. If… if someone likes you enough it doesn't even matter anyway.” Jean hears him take a deep breath and assumes he’s done. 

“It doesn't matter to me,” mumbled and hesitant, Jean isn't sure if he heard the last part right. He lets the quiet that follows fill him up, barely daring to breath as he looks over at Jeremy who's looking the other way. He looks up and meets his eyes. He’s blushing. Jean doesn't know what to do. They're really close. Somehow they’ve moved closer, like Jeremy really is the sun with his own unseen gravity pulling Jean towards him, shoulder to shoulder. Both of their heads turned to the side, their faces are very very close. He can see all the colours in Jeremy’s eyes, a million shades of rich, deep and dark browns, with hints of gold. Jeremy’s eyes are a goldmine dug deep and filled with promises of precious stones and dreams. 

They've moved closer again. Foreheads pressed together, hair joining into a tangle of gold and black, good and bad. Jean’s stomach is tumbling over and over itself. He swallows.

“Can i kiss you?” It’s barely a whisper but he’s frozen. Yes, please, yes, yes, of course. 

“No.” No, no, no, of course not, he can't, he can't, Jeremy - Jeremy doesn't even know - “You don't- i - it's not fair.” 

“What - ?” Jeremy is confused and Jean is filled with too much of his own panic to deal with it reflecting on the face looking up at him as he scrambles to his feet and stumbles away, needing to put space between them before he does something he’ll regret. Something Jeremy will regret. 

“Fair? Jean -”

Jean runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha you thought :/   
> this chapter was gonna be longer but i decided to split it in two


	12. late night panicking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jean dealing with things about as well as can be expected

He’s barefoot and panicked, dimly aware that he’s pushing the door to the roof open with trembling hands, dimly aware of the cold air on his skin, the icy wind in his lungs, dimly aware he’s fumbling with his phone, that it's ringing in his ear. He can't think past the look on Jeremy’s face, past how did he mess this up? What does he do now? What-? Renee picks up

“Jean?”

He breaths, or tries to, his mouth opening and finding nothing, his lungs stopping. He gasps, shaking and sinks to his knees, holding back tears. This, this at last, is too much. Everything he’s suppressed and is trying to work through, everything that wakes him up at night or stressed him during the day, it's all piled up and now he can't anymore. He's broken something he had, cut the one line holding him on and now he’s drowning. It's all crashing down on his head. 

“Jean? Jean are you ok?”

“Renee.”

“Yes, it's me. What's the matter Jean? Are you ok?”

“I - i’ve messed up.”

“Tell me, tell me what happened Jean. Do you need me to come and get you?” What happened? He ruined everything. But her voice, the suggestion that she would come and get him if he needed, would cross the country, that there was someone who would do that for him calms him enough to talk.

“No i - i it's just…”

“Jean?”

“It's my soulmate.”

“Oh.” It’s not what she expected he can tell but her voice is soft, encouraging, “What about them? Have you found them?” 

“I - yes, i've found them but - but i can't - they can't know, i can't tell them.”

“Why not?” Renee’s confusion is clear. “Do they need help or -” 

“No,” he interrupts, “No, it's - it's, my - they, it's Jeremy Knox. My soulmate. Jeremy Knox is my soulmate.” It’s a relief to say it, even sitting in the cold, alone on a roof, even if he feel worse when he does.

“Ok. Ok, that's ok Jean.”

“I know.”

“Ok, so - so why can't you tell him?”

“I just can't. Look at me - he doesn't - I'm a mess and he doesn't deserve to have to put up with this but he would if he thought - i can't - i can't be the reason he’s unhappy. I won't be - but he - i -” Jean realises that he has an arm wrapped around himself in a tight hug, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “He tried to kiss me,” he whispers, an admission to the night sky, “And I don't know what to do.” He sighs and lies back, the stars sprawling out above, closing his eyes and tries to piece himself back together. 

“Do you like Jeremy, Jean?”

“Of course.”

“Jean -” Renee sighs, “I mean like that, do you like him like that?”

“Oh.” He sits up with a frown. “How should i know?”

“Um,” he can hear Renee shifting on the other end, “Well i , - how does he make you feel?” Safe. Jeremy makes Jean feel safe. But he won't say that. Not even to Renee.

“He - he’s too good for me, even as a friend Renee. He's one of the best people I know. He’s like you, kind just because he can be. He… he’s pretty and i could listen to him talk about nothing all night long. Oh.”

“Hmmm, so what's the problem? If you like him? And he likes you?”

“Likes me?”

“He wanted to kiss you, Jean.”

“I don't - i don't know. What if i'm a disappointment?”

“What if you aren't? Jean, you need to tell him. Either way, it's cruel to make him wait for someone right there.”

“Yes. You're right. I just -”

“Jean. Listen, we are talking about Jeremy Knox, human sunshine, here.”

“Yeah.”

“I won't lie, you probably should have already told him. But I understand. And he will too. I'm sure of it. Tell him.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“I'll tell him.”

“Good. Goodnight then. And Jean? I'm proud of you, you know. You've come a long way. I'm glad we’re friends.”

“I doubt as glad as I am.”

Her laugh lingers after she hangs up.


	13. i should have told you this ages ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor jeremy even if he is an idiot

Jeremy can't stop staring at the door. He paces up and down beside the sofa. Runs his hand through his hair. Sits on the counter. Stands up. But mostly, he can't stop staring at the door. Like maybe Jean will come back and he can apologise or - or - or something. Or maybe he just can't believe Jean left at all. Should he call someone? Ask them if they've seen Jean or if they could find him to clean up Jeremy’s mess?

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have assumed - ? Jean had just said he wasn't looking for a relationship. Jeremy punches a wall. A first. It's not nearly as satisfying as he’d hoped, he just hurts his hand. Jean could probably teach him how to punch properly. He sits on the couch, curling into himself and tries not to cry. He probably just ruined all the progress Jean made and their friendship and everything. Shit. He messed up. And for what? They would both meet their soulmates and Jean’s would be some ridiculously good looking, smart and caring person good enough for him and he would forget all about Jeremy. You have a soulmate too, he tries to comfort himself, but he doesn't think he could forget ... doesn't think he wants to. Pathetic. He’s being pathetic. Maybe they can just pretend this never happened… but he doesn't want that either. He hugs his arms tighter around himself and tries not to cry. He won't cry.

The door opens.

Jeremy’s neck hurts from looking up so fast. Jean shuffles in looking uncomfortable. Oh. Of course. Jeremy looks back at his feet, hoping he doesn't look too miserable but knowing he does and that Jean’s far away enough that he can't see Jeremy blush. A tense silence grows as Jean clicks the door shut behind him. Oh god - is it always going to be like this between them now?

“Um.” Jean clears his throat and Jeremy looks up to see him shuffling from foot to foot, running a nervous hand through his hair. He won't meet Jeremy’s eyes. “I should - i - i should have told you this ages ago but um i - i didn't so, and Renee… Renee says i have to tell you now and um -” Jeremy’s stomach sinks to the floor. Of course, Jean and Renee were soulmates, it wasn't really platonic, he was so - “I guess it would be easier to show you,” Jean interrupts Jeremy’s thoughts, briefly meeting his eyes as if for permission and Jeremy nods, curious despite himself.

Jean takes off his t-shirt, turning around in a swift movement as he does so.

Oh.

Oh.

And Jeremy thought his was beautiful. Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover the tattoo spilling across Jean’s back. The entire heavens must be mapped there, as if the universe agrees with Jeremy that yes, this one was special, was deserving of it’s love clearly written across his back, that this was it's most beautiful creation. The skin under the tattoo has been attacked with a brutality that makes Jeremy want to cry - how could you want to harm something so lovely? It's almost as if the tattoo over it is trying to comfort it's broken skin, it's lines lovingly stroking and kissing it. Jeremy realises he’s standing - how did that happen? He’s crossed half the room, eyes never moving from Jean’s back.

They match. 

For each of Jeremy’s suns Jean has a moon, flowers traded for constellations and stars. But the rest is the same.

Soulmates.

Jeremy and Jean. Jean and Jeremy. 

Thank god.

Jean turns back to face him. Jeremy can't tell what he’s feeling. He looks guarded. Oh. Jeremy hasn't felt so small since adults towered over him. Jean doesn't want to be his soulmate. That's why he never said anything, why he’s been trying to hide it. Jeremy wants to cry again. Wants to plead or beg, say - but look. It's so beautiful, don't you agree with the universe?

“I-” he has to say something but all his panicked brain can think is don't leave me, don't say you don't want it, “i- i- i-”

Jean looks at his feet and his voice comes out small. “I'm sorry if it's a disappointment.”

“What?” surprise causes Jeremy’s brain to kickstart for half a second before stopping, stumped, again.

“If you don't… i mean i'm not -” Jean frowns, clearly frustrated, “That's why i didn't say anything. Because it's a disappointment and i-”

“Jean stop.” He does, freezes completely like a little kid caught stealing sweets. What - how - why? “It's not. It's not a disappointment, why would-? I - i'm not disappointed.” 

“Oh.” Jean’s shoulders relax, “i - well then i am sorry i did not tell you sooner. Renee, Renee said i should have.” Jeremy winces and wonders if he should disagree.

“It's ok,” he says instead, “i… it's ok. I get it, i think.” They stand facing each other awkwardly until Jeremy motions him to turn around. “Can i-?” he asks, fingers hovering above the clear black lines. Jean hesitates for only a second before nodding. Jeremy let's his fingers trace the loops and lines and curves of the other boys back, biting back a smile when he shivers. Jean scowls when he turns and sees Jeremy grin but he can't hold it for long and it fades into a shy smile.   
Jeremy doesn't think he’s breathing.

His hand was still on Jean’s back when he had turned around and it now rests on his chest, just the tips of his fingertips but it sends electric currents down his arm. He inches closer, suddenly hating any space between them, but the ‘no’ still fresh in his memory stops him. Jean hasn't said anything about how he feels about Jeremy being his soulmate yet, not really. Jeremy’s trying to find the courage to ask when Jean moves closer. Then all coherent thought flies from his mind. Their toes touch and Jeans move has flattened Jeremy’s hand to his chest. The only sound is that of their breathing. Jean leans his forehead against Jeremy’s, those grey eyes - soft for once, that wild anger calmed, leaving just a fierceness that too somehow feels soft - staring right into his. Jeremy swallows and leans in, just a little, stops and waits.   
When Jean leans in, their noses are touching and Jeremy is dying. Maybe he's already dead. Heaven or hell?

“Can i -?” he begins because god, he has to even just try and maybe this will end badly but right now -

Jean kisses him.

Jeremy comes back to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more to go after this...


	14. the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing endings isnt really my thing... probably cause i dont usually get that far but yeah here you go  
> briefly mentioned / implied rape

The truth. Here’s the truth, Jean’s truth.

The truth is Jean’s never been allowed a truth, never been asked for his opinion or feelings. Not in France, the second son of a failing gangster, and not in the Nest, a possession, a thing to be used and beaten, not until Jeremy. Jeremy feels like the truth. Jeremy feels so strongly it feels like the permission to feel too, Jeremy gives him choices and doesn't mind his decisions, Jeremy makes him feel like it's ok to just be Jean. Even if that's broken and empty and angry. The truth is Jean no longer hates the universe for their matching ink. The truth is Jean’s been hoping the universe is right for months. The truth is he’s wanted to kiss Jeremy for a while now.

Speaking of the truth, since he’s giving it out, here are some he’s buried deep in the tangle of his mind’s worst memories: Jean’s been kissed before. Of course he has. Technically. His firsts were drunken kisses and ones for attention or power or out of boredom or even on orders in France. Those weren’t so bad. Mostly. He could block it out with drugs and alcohol anyway, some were even for fun. Then. The Nest. Sometimes his despite pathetic pleadings still echo in his ears as he goes about his day. No and stop and please, all useless, useless, useless. Those kisses hurt, they took and took and took something he didn't want to give. Jean doesn't really know why he still wants to kiss anyone. Stupid hope? That it could be better? A promise of something different? Some would say Jean’s never really been kissed.

And now Jeremy Knox. 

Jeremy Knox who doesn't kiss Jean but waits, asks. Jeremy Knox who, when Jean kisses him, sucks in his breath in a tiny gasp. Jeremy Knox who has very soft lips that don't ask for anything Jean doesn't want to give. Jeremy. Jeremy who feels like home. Jean would kiss Jeremy all day if given the chance. When they pull apart - just barely, foreheads still touching - they’re both breathing heavily and Jeremy’s cheeks are bright red, which doesn't do much for Jean’s wildly beating heart. His hand is still on Jean’s chest. His other one has found its way into Jean’s hand, fingers interlacing. Jean never wants to have to let go again.

“It's only fair that i get to see your back now too,” he breathes and he's close enough to feel Jeremy’s heart speed up, to hear his breath hitch. He doesn't move back when the other boy pulls off his shirt. Jeremy turns around, ducking his chin into his chest as if embarrassed. Jean stares. Jeremy makes a small noise when he runs his fingers lightly down his back so he leans in to kiss the sun just under the other boys neck causing him to moan and his back to arch. Jean grins. Rests his chin on Jeremy’s shoulder, feeling the other boy lean back into him, to murmur into his ear.

“Your tattoo has grown.”

“Oh?” asks Jeremy, surprised and distracted for a second.

“Hmmm,” affirms Jean absentmindedly running his hand across the other boys lower back, only realising what he's doing when Jeremy moans and he laughs, “It's added me in. You have stars now. And moons.” It's true. Small and outnumbered, they fit into the pre-existing tattoo like the final pieces of a puzzle, completing it perfectly and adding something Jean wouldn't have thought was needed, or even wanted. He loved it already.

“No. Really? Let me see yours again.” He turns obligingly around for Jeremy and hears a gasp. “You have suns now! Oh and flowers.” He shivers as he feels Jeremy trace his back. “It's beautiful. You're beautiful, you know that right?” He turns to face Jeremy and finds open honesty and sincerity.

“Not like you.” The vulnerability he feels in admitting it is worth seeing Jeremy blush even as he starts to deny it. Jean kisses him to stop him from speaking. Then keeps kissing him.

The universe was right. It's gonna be ok. Him and Knox. Him and his soulmate. Him and the future.

Jean and Jeremy and the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end   
> (thanks for making it this far :))

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism appreciated i wont even cry too much


End file.
